Nina Schoffelen
The day was miserable and cold as the mother and daughter met at the small cafe.
Their silence was filled with the clatter of dishes and hum of voices coming from the kitchen.
A table number separated the two; the black number stark against its white backdrop.
The bleak gray colours of the sky had become even more dark, staring down on them with an intensity.
A quick gust of wind twisted the mother’s scarf and the patterned colours seemed to dance for just a moment.
A particularly load bang came from the kitchen making the daughter jump.
She looked down hastily focussing on the table number and felt sick as she realised it was the age at which she had last seen her mother.
The mother’s scarf did its little dance again and despite the cold she tugged at it almost desperately, finally removing it from around her neck.
Nina Schoffelen
The day was miserable and cold as the mother and daughter met at the small cafe.
Their silence was filled with the clatter of dishes and hum of voices coming from the kitchen.
A table number separated the two; the black number stark against its white backdrop.
The bleak gray colours of the sky had become even more dark, staring down on them with an intensity.
A quick gust of wind twisted the mother’s scarf and the patterned colours seemed to dance for just a moment.
A particularly load bang came from the kitchen making the daughter jump.
She looked down hastily focussing on the table number and felt sick as she realised it was the age at which she had last seen her mother.
The mother’s scarf did its little dance again and despite the cold she tugged at it almost desperately, finally removing it from around her neck.